Uncloistered

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  “She gazed ahead through a long reach of future days strung together like pearls in a rosary, every one like the others, and all smooth and flawless and innocent, and her heart went up in thankfulness. Outside was the fervid summer afternoon; the air was filled with the sounds of the busy harvest of men and birds and bees; there were halloos, metallic clatterings, sweet calls, and long hummings. Louisa sat, prayerfully numbering her days, like an uncloistered nun.” A New England Nun By Mary E. Wilkins Freeman (1852–1930)

Didja hear the one about the boy who wanted to be preacher when he grew up?

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"It's a wonderful calling," said his mother, "but why do you want to be a preacher when you grow up?"

"Well," said the youngster, "I figure since I'll be in church anyway, it'll be easier to stand up and holler than stay sat down and be quiet for the rest of my life."

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